


Afterwards

by miriad



Category: House of Wax (2005)
Genre: F/M, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2007, recipient:pesha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miriad/pseuds/miriad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick's made a lot of mistakes. He just hopes this isn't one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterwards

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pesha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pesha/gifts).



> Thanks to geek_mentality for the beta and als_wonderland for the encouragement. You guys rocked. This was written for pesha, for Yuletide 2007.

He can't stop touching her. Her hand in his, his arm around her shoulders, fingers poised to catch every heartbeat, arm ready to feel every inhale and exhale. Nick leans in to her, listening for her breath, for the soft sounds of her eyes opening and closing as she blinks. It's like he's got these super powers attuned just to her and needs to use to them to make sure that she isn't going to go away, that Carly's really okay.

He hasn't wanted to be close to her like this in years. Not since the summer camp incident when she almost drowned and they had to lock him in his cabin to keep him from camping out on her floor. Not since the fights had started, since she had been labeled the good twin and he'd gladly taken the label of the bad. There was a divide between them, something he couldn't help poking like a rotting tooth. Maybe that was why he was here, on this trip, with her instead of doing something, well, more fun. And thank God he was, he can't help repeating to himself. Otherwise, she'd be dead and then what would he do? Where would he be?

She hasn't said much of anything, has let him get away with being clingy all through the ambulance ride, through the examination in the emergency room and then through the night in the hospital room. She's tired, he can read it in every move she makes but she's fighting sleep with everything she has left. The doctors are concerned about her silence, that she's dehydrated and in shock. She's been difficult, to say the least, and they've had a hard time trying to get her to complete the few tests they have to determine her mental state.

Nick hasn't forced her to do anything. He's sided with her, even after one of the emergency room docs took him aside and explained that they would have a hard time releasing her if they couldn't figure out what, exactly, was wrong with her. Nick read it as a threat and told the Doc so, maintaining his hard stand to do what Carly needed him to.

There's a point, however, when he knows he needs to say something, do something so that she'll get some goddamn sleep already. They want to sedate her, want to slide something into her IV but she freaks out, fighting against the nurse, trying to pull the IV out herself. Nick doesn't think it's a coincidence that they tried this while he was in the restroom.

They're holding her down when he steps into the room, trying to tie her to the bed with wide leather straps. It's more than Nick can take. "The fuck?" He barrels in, punching and kicking out to get to the bed, making a clear path to his sister, to his girl. He shoulders an orderly out of his way and practically throws himself across the bed, his face suddenly in line with Carly's. He reaches out and takes her face in his softly shaking hands. He waits, more patient than he's ever been in his life, for her to look at him and see him, her brother.

She's a mess, eyes wide and unseeing. He starts to hum at her, System of a Down, but the melody is kinda pretty. He feels like he's calming a wild animal but pushes the thought away because it's Carly for god's sake and he should know better. Doctors and nurses try to pull him away, try to talk to him, explain that they're just doing what's best but he ignores them. Everything he has is focused on her right now. On Carly. As it should be. When she can finally look at him, can finally see him as Nick and not faceless danger number one hundred and thirty, he starts to talk to her.

"What a day, huh? But, you know, the day is over. It's over, babe. You need to get some sleep. Right?" She looks at him for a long time, not blinking or talking or moving. But then it's like the air has been let out of her tiny frame and she sinks to the bed in a heap, eyes closing softly. She's crying, but not making a sound and he maintains his hold on her cheeks, the tears slicking his fingers and his palms. "Go to sleep. I'll protect you. It's okay." And she does.

He maintains a hold on her for the rest of the night, standing guard.

They let her go in the morning. It's against medical advice but Nick pushes. Carly needs to leave, needs to get out of there, out from under the glare of so many unknown faces. Nick has never felt so strongly about giving Carly what she wants- more to the point, what she needs and so he puts on his asshole face and gets them out of there. Carly doesn't say anything about it, just laces her fingers with his as they walk out into the sunshine.

When he had called home, his father had hung up the phone the first time. The second call, however, Nick had skipped any salutation and yelled that Carly was hurt into the phone. Dad was a little more willing to talk to him after that. He had some money wired via Western Union and arranged for a rental car and a hotel.

The car is waiting at the hotel, so they call a cab for the ride from the hospital. Carly practically sits in his lap during the short ride, still refusing to say anything.

Nick can't stop looking at her lips, red and inflamed despite the balm that the hospital had provided. They had helped remove the glue with a solvent but it didn't do much for the open wounds. Couldn't exactly bandage them. She smells like a medicine chest but Nick doesn't care. She's alive and that's all that matters.

He checks them in, gets the keys and hurries her up to their room. Dad had guessed, pretty accurately, that they'd want to share a room and the double they get has all the amenities that they'll need to pull themselves together before heading back home.

Nick leads Carly to the first bed and makes her sit, leaning down to help her with her shoes. She's wearing scrubs from the hospital, not wanting to put on the dirty and bloody clothes she had come in with. She's mostly clean but they both still reek of smoke and wax. He helps her out of her top and the scrub bottoms till she's down to her underwear. As he heads to the bathroom to start the shower, Carly turns to him, eyes wide, as if he's leaving her forever.

"I'm just starting the shower. You'll be fine for the, what, five seconds I'll be in there." But her eyes tell a different story so he stops. "We need to shower, Carly. We smell like shit." With a sigh, he pulls his shirt off and pops the button on his jeans, sliding the dirty material over his hips and onto the floor. In his boxers, he holds out a hand to Carly. "Come on, we'll get clean together. That okay with you?" She takes his hand and smiles.

"Yeah, that's okay." The first real words from her in almost a day and he has to stop himself from laughing. She wouldn't get it and he's not sure he could explain why that simple sentence coming from her scratchy throat makes him so damn happy.

She leans against the counter while he starts up the shower, getting the water just right, how they've always liked it. He wraps the shower cap around her bandaged hand, tucking the plastic into the bandages, with the hope that it'll be enough to keep her hand safe and dry. Nick pulls the curtain back and motions her in, like he was opening her car door or something. She grins at him, just the corner of her mouth moving. He helps her into the bathtub and starts to close the curtain but she stops him with a fast hand. She looks nervous but she grips his arm and pulls.

"Come in with me."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I don't want to be alone." She's not ashamed of asking, he can tell. She's scared, with good reason, and she wants him with her. He can compartmentalize that as fear working through her but he can feel in the pit of his stomach that it might be something else entirely. He ignores that and steps into the shower himself.

They're both wearing their underwear and he makes no moves to remove his. Carly stands under the spray, eyes closed in the blissful heat of the pounding water. Her hair is already drenched, her bra and panties soaked through, becoming almost transparent. Nick feels it in his groin, that shock of arousal that leads to an erection and with almost any other woman, hot sex. But Carly, well, it doesn't work that way with her, no matter what his groin tries to tell him.

Her eyes pop open and he wonders, for just a second, if she was reading his mind, if she saw the dirty images that he had conjured up of her, all hot and bothered and ready for action. She steps towards him and grabs his hips, twisting to move around him and push him under the shower head. The water feels awesome and he lets it cover him, flow over the muscles that he worked so hard to shape. His boxers are soon soaked and despite his mental protestations to the contrary, he's still sporting an oh so impressive boner.

Carly just watches him, eyes fixed on his face and not his ever-hardening cock. He doesn't move, doesn't flinch under her gaze, trying to just be who he is and not be ashamed that his body wants her. She steps forward again and he moves to meet her halfway, to switch places again but she reaches out with her good hand and stops him. Her fingers press into his chest, between the pectoral muscles and he glances down, not sure what to make of this development.

"Thank you. For saving me." She says those words but her eyes say more and in the next moment, she launches herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck, hugging him like she'd never get the chance again. He presses his face into her neck and breathes her in, shutting his eyes against the new visions of her dead, of her brutalized and murdered because he was a stupid bastard. He's still sporting wood and tries to pull away but she holds on with an iron grip and so he's stuck under the shower spray with his sister.

Who takes the opportunity to kiss his shoulder. Her lips are rough, ripped up as they are, but her touch is light. Nick thinks he imagined it and does nothing until he feels it again, feels her lips working across the skin, dipping down to taste his collar bone. Her arms slide down his back, across the expanse of open skin. He leans back as far as he can, trying to see her face, to see what she's thinking but her grip is firm.

"What are you doing, Carly?"

"What I've always wanted to."

He can't see her, can't look into her eyes but the straining erection in his boxers helps all protests go out the window. He nuzzles her neck, tongue flicking out to taste the soft skin there. He tastes up her jaw line and back down, nipping softly but without any really power behind him. She moans, almost too quiet for him to hear her but he does and continues his way down her shoulder.

Carly's hands find the waistband of his boxers and work them down, his cock bouncing up as it's freed from the wet cotton. She gets the fabric to his thighs, where gravity takes over and the material drops to the fiberglass bottom of the tub. He kicks them away and reaches for the clasp on her bra. She tries to keep him close but he forces her back a bit to get the bra away from her breasts and to add to the pile of undergarments on the floor.

He makes her look at him, hand on her chin. Her face is determined, eyes clear and sharp. It takes him a minute to be sure, that she wants this as much as he does. He makes his decision when she grips his cock in her good hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Nick's eyes drop shut and he groans, long and deep.

"Fuck, Carly."

"That's what I was thinking."

He pulls her to him, hips pressed together. Her hand is trapped between them, still on his cock.

"You gotta be sure, Carly. Really, really sure." Words are leaving him, all the various smart ass comments he could have made gone away in the haze of lust and sex. She doesn't answer him, just leans forward and kisses him, hard and strong. She opens her mouth first, playfully pushing with her tongue until he opens his. She licks and nips, tongue darting out to meet his, then away again.

He runs his hands down her back, the smooth skin slick with shower water. He stops at her underwear and starts to work them off but the tight fit and the water fight him. He pulls away from her, ignores her pout and kneels. His eyes are level with her bellybutton and he leans forward to kiss the soft spot just below it. He gently pulls at her panties but gets nowhere. With two sure hands, he rips the left side, then the right and tosses the fabric away. Her injured hand rests on his shoulder, her other hand on the shower wall, helping her balance. Nick nudges her legs apart and breathes in the scent of her, the sharp tang of woman that he's always loved.

He dips forward, tongue snaking out to touch her clit and she jumps a bit. He grabs her hips, holds her steady and flicks forward and back with his tongue. She starts to twitch but he keeps going, loving the feel of this, the taste as she starts to get slick and wet for him. He uses one hand to reach behind where his tongue is working, sliding one finger into her cunt, wet and tight. She groans and leans forward, his face pressed even tighter against her.

He only stops when she starts pounding on his shoulder. He looks up and see the flush across her face, the desire in her eyes. With a shaking hand, she grips his face and pulls up. He groans himself and his knees come up from the floor, the physical exertion of the past few days making him ache all over. Once he's standing, she pulls him to her, kissing her own taste off his lips.

The water is starting to run cold and Nick pulls away to turn it off. It's awfully quiet without the droning of water hitting fiberglass, their heavy breathing echoing off the shower walls. Nick pushes the curtain back and forgoes a towel, just steps out of the tub and pulls her to him. He lifts her- she weighs almost nothing- and drags her close. She wraps her legs around his waist and leans in to kiss him. When she finally pulls back, he brushes back her hair, hooking it behind her ear.

She's smiling and he's grateful, having been so worried that she was broken somehow, damaged beyond all repair. He ignores the fact that she's his sister and this sudden desire to fuck him is its own kind of broken.

He carries her into the bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light. He takes her to the nearest bed and pulls down the scratchy comforter, then lays her on the clean cotton sheets. He follows her, kissing roughly, hands sliding down to cup her breasts. She arcs up at the touch and he runs a finger around her nipple, already puckered from the cool air. He kisses down her neck to her breasts and takes a nipple into his mouth, hand continuing to play with the other.

Her fingers comb through his hair, occasionally pulling as he bites gently at her breast. She pushes his head forward and he takes that as a sign to bite harder. Carly groans and bucks in his arms. He smiles against her skin and moves his mouth to her other breast.

Her legs come up to wrap around him, her hips bucking and jerking. He threads his thigh between hers and she rocks and writhes against him. She's really, really wet and now his thigh is too and that just makes him even hotter inside, his cock hard and insistent against his belly. Nibbling back up her chest and neck, he brings his face up to her and makes her open her eyes to look at him.

"I gotta know you're okay. With this. With me." She meets his gaze as steady as she can, breathing heavily through her mouth. She leans forward to kiss him but he stops her with a hand on her chest. "I have to know, Carly. I can't do this if I don't know."

"I want this. Sweet Jesus, I want this. Please Nick, don't..." She doesn't finish her sentence, just leans forward to kiss him and he lets her. She wraps her arm around his neck, keeps him close to her. She uses her good hand to reach between them and grip his cock. He grinds against her, sensation rushing through him. He wants her, wants to be inside her, right the fuck now.

He moves his leg from between her thighs and positions himself. He's bracing his weight on his arms to keep from crushing her and tilts to one side to free up a hand to guide his cock but Carly beats him to it. She pulls him by the cock to her cunt and fits the tip into the wetness between her legs. He can feel himself slipping in, the tight heat enveloping his cock. Their eyes lock and she nods to him, no words needed. He slides in with one strong stroke and she groans, forehead pressing against his collar bone.

It's fast and hard, their hips pounding together, her nails scraping down his back and she moans against him. She's meeting him thrust for thrust, her teeth digging into his shoulder and upper arm. He can hear her voice, asking for it harder and faster and he does what he can to oblige her. There's a red haze of lust and anger coloring his vision at this point- lust for the only person he's ever loved and anger that he almost lost her.

She pushes him off and he's thrown for a second, thinking that she'd finally changed her mind and that he's about to get his ass kicked but she pushes him on his back, then throws a leg over him, sliding down on his cock. He hisses at the sensation, her tight little body feeling so amazing and then she starts to ride him.

Her hips buck, her thighs letting her bounce on his cock. She leans forward, breasts swaying in front of his eyes and he strains up to take one in his mouth. She hisses at the contact and he bites down on her nipple, making her groan and buck, her rhythm completely thrown. He grips her hips and starts thrusting her on his cock even harder than she had been riding him before.

He can feel the tightness in his cock, the pull in his groin, up his back, of orgasm. He fights it, knowing that she has yet to come but then he feels her tighten around his cock, feel the tremors through her body as orgasm finally claims her and he stops fighting his own.

She's a screamer as she comes, shaking apart on top of him then curling over, her forehead resting against him. He's completely spent, breathing about all he can accomplish at this point, but he does wrap his arms around her, pulling her as close as he can before dragging the sheets up and over them. She's quiet and he doesn't know what to say. He hugs her closer, her head under his chin. Her fingers trace circles on his chest and he wonders what's she's thinking, why he let this happen.

"Thank you." It's a quiet sound, soft and breathy. Post-coital.

"You're welcome." It's as close as he can get to saying `I love you' at this point but he knows that she knows. It'll be okay, he thinks. It has to be okay.


End file.
